


Swap Meat

by Doceo_Percepto, Sp00py



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Games)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gore, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mono decides to pretend RK is Six, Mono has TV powers, Reality-warping, Suicidal Ideation, Vomit, anal rape, like normal people do, y'know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: Six dies, and Mono isn't ready to accept that. Good thing Runaway Kid looks so much like her.
Relationships: Mono/The Runaway Kid (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fettered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649126) by [Doceo_Percepto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto), [Sp00py](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py). 



> This is a "what if Six died?" scenario inspired by Fettered. 
> 
> Basically - what if Six and Mono took RK with them out of the Maw, and then at a later time point, Six gets killed. In order to cope, Mono pretends like RK is Six. This idea was pitched by someone in the comments of Fettered and I took it and ran. Thank you sp00py for the magnificence that is Fettered, and thank you anonymous commenter for the many and varied ending ideas.

Everywhere Six and Mono went, RK did, too. Not because he wanted to. His ability to choose what he did, wore, or even said, had been robbed long ago. 

If it were up to him, he’d still be on board the decaying Maw, curled up in the library with a slew of nomes for company and friendship, and helping other children when he was able. But there weren’t any nomes left there - Six had made sure of that. She and Mono guaranteed RK would never find peace on that ship again, not that he’d ever be back; they would never let him. 

When they left the Maw, so did he. When they went to the Pale City, so did he. Thus the pattern continued. 

Running was pointless. RK had learned that very fast, and very early. It surprised him little, because he’d known Six before she gained freaky powers and an unnatural appetite, and even then she’d been impossible to escape. Worse, Mono had eyes in every TV; given the right motivation, he could bend the world to his whim. A power seldom employed: Mono said he didn’t like to use his abilities, because it made him feel guilty, made him feel like a monster. RK had to bite his tongue on, _it isn’t your powers that make you a monster._

Apart from teleporting through TV’s, RK had seen it used only once. 

“Why do you want to run?” Mono had pleaded, then, buildings bowing to him and the ground upheaved in rigid layers. He’d held out his hand as if in a peace offering. “We can protect you, RK.”

RK would rather face monsters that wanted to kill him, not keep him. He’d already lost four fingers and bore a litany of scars, old and new, from supposed _care._ Mono didn’t understand. Six had gotten her claws deep in him, and he was helplessly chained to her lies. Time and time again RK tried to convince him otherwise, but in Mono’s mind, Six’s voice would always prevail. 

RK grew bitterer and bitterer, made to play along in their dumb game. That hurting people was love; that they were doing good things, helping kids, making some kind of stupid difference. They were just monsters. Six had been from the start. If Mono ever had a chance of being a decent human being, then he’d never get there with Six around, and there’d never be a time where Six wasn’t. Not with her vicious nature, her shadows, her unrelenting will to live, and a reality warper hovering at her heels like a slavering dog.

At least… RK had thought not. 

Mono thought the same. 

She exuded such confidence and ferocity that it seemed like she’d never die. They’d both come to believe that. It upturned everything when she did. 

The point of going to the Flesh Gardens, according to Mono, was to rescue the children potentially trapped there. RK understood this as ‘rescue some, feed others to Six’ and he was already nauseous, made only worse by Six’s excited springy step, no doubt thoughts of her approaching meals putting her in a good mood. She didn’t eat anything, not even scraps of meat, for two days beforehand. Mono worried if she was feeling well. RK knew she was making room for a feast. 

She never made it to her meal. The Flesh Gardens was protected only by the Gardener, who collected children and raised them for planting (a process most didn’t survive, but those that did last longer than an hour were the most miserable of all). Their plan: Mono and RK would infiltrate the toolshed, where the kids were reportedly kept, while Six kept guard at the doorway. If all things went well, they wouldn't even attract the Gardener’s attention, and they’d be out with a hoard of children in no time. It was supposed to be easy.

The first part went fine. RK and Mono broke into the toolshed, where huge gleaming silver items like weapons dangled in rows up the wall. At the very back, a series of cages, each crammed with so many children that they were pressed up against the bars and the whole place reeked of piss. RK covered his nose and hunted for a key while Mono hushed the children and assured them of freedom. The whole time, RK was sick to his stomach for more reasons than just the condition of these kids. When he saw those grimy faces peering out of the bars, all he could think was, _I know already not all of them will survive._ There’d be a choice made. Mono would justify it. Six was hungry, he’d say. She had to eat. It was only one or two. They did a net good. 

Six was hungry, because she had _chosen_ to not eat. She might have staved off long enough even to get hunger pangs, which inevitably filled Mono with worry and a righteous need to help her. 

RK’s trembling fingers closed around a key. Yes, he could already see, step by step, what would happen. But he was clueless on how to stop it. 

That’s when a scream, young and high-pitched, came from outside. _Six._

Mono tore aware from the cage and flew out of the toolshed like a man possessed. RK froze in place. Follow Mono, or let the kids go? In the next second he was there, jamming the key into the lock. The mission was saving the kids. They couldn't get mad at him if he did just that. The lock dropped with a loud clank. He slapped the key into the hands of the first kid pouring out. “Run,” he advised fiercely. “Run and don’t stop, not for anything-“

He wished he could run with them. It would only put them in danger. Instead, he stumbled outside, squinting against the rain, just in time to see a mangled yellow body drop to the mud. Behind it, a stocky hulking body with a sloshing canister of pesticide on its back, and most of its body covered in thick protective gear. Its breath huffed through a mask, but RK’s eyes were momentary transfixed on Six’s yellow raincoat. It wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing. Her fingers were half-unfurled, utterly relaxed, and stained with blood. 

Whatever the Gardener had done, he’d done it fast. No doubt he’d do it just as quickly to RK and Mono. RK’s eyes jerked up to the looming enemy, and he backed away, every muscle taut and ready to run. 

Mono didn’t back away. 

“Mono,” RK hissed. “Snap out of it!” They needed to _move._

There was no response, except for unsteady breathing. 

“ _Mono_!” RK darted forward and grabbed Mono’s sleeve, only for the boy to shove him off. 

The Gardener stepped one thick-soled boot forward, stepping carelessly over Six’s body. That’s when Mono snapped. His white-knuckled fingers seized his bag and cast it viciously to the side. RK had half a second to realize Mono’s eyes were no longer brown but instead staticky grey, before the entire world exploded. 

The ground surged and bucked under RK’s feet. Glass shattered; metal screeched and popped like a series of gunshots, while all the buildings around them were uprooted and ripped to pieces by invisible hands. Worse even than the ear-splitting sounds of matter bent to one will, there was a reverberating pulse that throbbed in the air and made RK feel like his brain was beating to a painful rhythm. RK cried out soundlessly, like the noise was torn right from his throat, as his palms crushed to his ears. 

“Stop stop stop!” He mouthed, only every movement felt like molasses, his heart which he was sure was racing thudded lazily in his ears. Ba… dum….. ba… dum….

RK jerked his head side by side in slow-motion, as if he could shake off the sensation. All sound fell away, but for that warbling pulse. RK forced his eyes open - his only means for knowing what was happening. Mono’s hands were held like claws. His face tear-streaked, his mouth open in a scream of rage. All around him, the world hovered mutely, trembling in a silent frequency: rain suspended mid-fall, clods of earth, shredded building, garden tools, and the bloody dismembered chunks that remained of the Gardener. 

Everything was held in suspension. 

Then reality slammed back in. The earth was pelted with tools, body parts, metal, rocks. RK stumbled and fell over. Rain plinked upon the ground, making the noise it should. Aside from that, there was only Mono’s ragged, unsteady breaths. No more danger, not anymore. No more Six, either. 

RK sat up, hair slicked down his head from the rain. Six’s body was mere feet away, speckled with mud and grass and blood. He stared, disbelieving. Waiting for a twitch, a breath. There was nothing. Then Mono collapsed beside Six, and obscured RK’s view. Mono’s shoulders were shaking. 

_Six was dead._

RK didn’t know what to feel. Empty. Numb. Maybe he was in shock. For so long he’d wished her to stop existing. She was evil, monstrous. She hurt kids for fun. And deep down, RK knew it was for the best she was dead. She didn’t create any good in the world; she only made it worse. Just… she’d always been there. Even when he was little. Torturing him because she liked the way it felt. 

RK slid fingers up his sleeve and touched old scars. She wouldn't be making new ones. She wouldn't hurt him or anyone else, ever again. A half smile flicked at his lips. It felt wrong, to be glad for anyone’s death. Six was different, though. Relief flowed through him. 

Six wasn’t the only one to worry about, though. Mono was clutching her in his arms and rocking softly, making no secret of the fact he was crying. 

Slowly, RK stood. “We have to go,” he whispered to Mono. To shelter, safety, just - somewhere else. Mono ignored him, if he heard him at all. RK hesitated, thinking of slow motion and suspended objects. Mono had never demonstrated that before. Warping reality a little, sure, like crunching streets to catch up to RK. But something on that level was new. 

RK swallowed. Should he run? No, bad idea. Mono might seem very distracted now, but RK was all he had left now. He wasn’t going to let him go so easily, and if RK pissed him off instead of escaping… RK shuddered. “Mono,” he whispered, louder. “We can’t do anything else-“

No response. 

RK sighed. The rain had soaked through his clothes by this point, leaving him shivery. If they stayed out here, they were going to get sick. He padded his way to Mono’s side, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, then paused a few inches away. Hesitation. Then he clasped his shoulder and squeezed. 

Mono wasn’t like RK. He’d liked Six - _more_ than liked her. He’d had years to build up his illusions and obsession with her, years to internalize her guidance, years to become _hers_. With Six gone, it was easier to feel pity and sympathy than hatred. RK always got the sense Mono hadn’t had many friends, or if he had, they didn’t generally last long. In that sense, Six would have been very different, able to protect and care for herself - at least, until now. 

“I’m sorry,” RK choked out. Not sorry for Six. Sorry for the wreck she’d made Mono, and that it wouldn't be easy for Mono to get over her loss. He’d defined himself so much around her. Maybe… maybe this would be good for him. The idea dawned on RK slowly. He wouldn't have Six around to continue to abuse him, and convince him that all wrong was right. That already was good. But also, maybe RK could teach him, slowly - he had no doubt it’d take a long time - how reality really worked. What helping people actually meant - not sacrificing some children for the so-called greater good. Maybe Mono could recover. Could become the person RK thought he always sensed, beneath the trauma and fear and delusions. RK rubbed his shoulder soothingly. He didn’t really know how to comfort, even after all this time. The nomes were usually okay with just hugs, but it felt weird to hug Mono…

RK shifted foot to foot. The stench of death was heavy in the air from the dismembered Gardener. “Mono, we gotta go…” 

“No,” Mono mumbled wetly. 

Oh, good, he was talking. “We can’t stay,” RK pleaded. “She’s dead, Mono-“

“SHUT UP!” Mono whirled upon him, and his eyes were grey again. 

RK backed up several steps, palms up. Not another word left his mouth. Mono’s fingers clenched and unclenched. All right. All right. This wasn’t a battle he was going to try to fight. Mono could take as much time as he needed. Soon as it became clear RK wasn’t going to pry, Mono dropped back down to Six’s corpse. He was insane. Not surprising, not news. 

He’d get better, now. He had to. RK slunk off to gather a collection of ruined metal scraps for building a hidey-hole from the rain, now that Mono had leveled every building in a five mile radius. He gritted his teeth and bit back frustrated swears. Constructing a water resistant refuge wasn’t easy normally, forget doing it when you only had six fingers between both hands, and all the materials were slippery. 

All he’d managed to do was amass a pile of trash, before he heard Mono treading behind him. 

Tensing, RK spun around. 

The kid looked utterly defeated, but sane. Six’s blood-splattered coat was clutched tight to his chest. Okay, so he was carrying that around now. “Sorry,” Mono mumbled.

“It’s okay,” RK whispered. He wasn’t going to tell the reality-warper otherwise, thanks. Anyway, Mono was looking the most normal he had since he ripped apart the Gardener, and RK was going to count his small mercies. 

Mono’s lifeless gaze passed over RK’s pile of junk. With one tired gesture of his hand, it rearranged and fused into a small square-ish structure. 

Ah. 

Before, Mono had been hesitant to use his powers even for situations where they were required. Now, suddenly, he used them nonchalantly, like it was no different than walking or talking. RK wasn’t going to mention that, nope. Not after what he just saw, thanks.

Mono slunk inside and sat. His eyes stared to some middle distance. Great. This was going to be great. RK followed suit. 

Mono wouldn't stop hugging Six’s raincoat, but he wasn’t doing anything else, either. 

RK hugged himself, shivering. Geez, wasn’t Mono cold? “Maybe we should look for another shelter?” RK thought longingly of warm clothes, maybe some canned food. There were plenty of abandoned places around here. Then again, Mono had destroyed so much, who knew what was even left standing. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

RK’s thoughts screeched to a halt. If Six were around, he’d never think about disagreeing. Now he vacillated. If he said yes, would it confuse Mono and set back RK’s goal of teaching Mono how to be a normal person? If he said no, what was the likelihood Mono would force him, or hurt him? “Wh-why?” RK croaked instead. 

“Please,” Mono said, voice breaking. “I… I don’t want to feel this way.”

It wasn’t the first time Mono had used arousal to run from negative feelings. The guy had it down to an art, as much as RK hated it. Also meant that he probably wouldn't stop at kissing, either. “I… don’t want to kiss right now?” RK tried. 

“Oh.” 

RK rubbed his arms. “We need to start a fire or something,” he muttered. Bright idea, self. Only trouble was there was nothing to light up. Mono said nothing. His lips were pressed to Six’s raincoat. 

Okay. RK knew it was going to be hard for a bit, dealing with a grieving Mono. Annoying that he was freezing while Mono cradled an extra coat, but there was no way in hell RK would wear that thing. Okay, no fire, no extra outfit… The best thing to do would be to shed his current clothes and dry out without them. He’d dry faster than they would. That meant being exposed in front of Mono, though…

RK seethed between his teeth. No good answers. There never was when it came to Mono or Six. Well. Mono, in this case. 

Fine. Fine. He needed to do what he needed to do to survive. 

RK started yanking off his clothes angrily. Stupid stupid stupid. “I’m just trying to get dry,” he told Mono, in case the other kid got ideas. 

Mono said nothing, gratefully. When he was bare except for his boxers (RK wasn’t ready to be exposed entirely in front of Mono), he plopped back down and hugged his legs to his chest. 

He startled when Mono draped something yellow over his shoulders. 

“ _No_ -“ RK started. 

“Yes,” Mono snapped. 

RK didn’t fight back, old instinct holding him back. Sometimes he hated that about himself. Sometimes he knew it was the only way he lived. Mono was unpredictable now. With sharper edges, a crueler tone. RK was scared to disagree, the same way as he had been scared to tell Six ‘no’ long ago on the Maw. 

“You’ll be warmer,” Mono said, and that sounded a little bit more like the Mono that RK knew. Not a good Mono. But a familiar Mono. An emotional one, if nothing else. 

“Thanks,” RK bit out. Now he had her coat hanging on his shoulders, like some albatross. He’d love nothing more than tearing it to pieces and throwing it in a ditch somewhere. 

Mono’s fingers caressed along RK’s shoulders. No. No stop that. 

They traveled up his neck to twine in his hair. Stop stop stop. 

Stroked down to his jaw, and turned RK’s head to the side. No-

Their lips pressed together.

RK scrunched his eyes closed and whimpered. Relax. Relax. Let him do what he wanted - 

No - _No_ , RK was supposed to be teaching him that this was wrong; he was supposed to be undoing all of Six’s horrible work. Mono licked at his lips, and RK was paralyzed, same as he had been every other time Mono kissed him. He needed to stop this. But he couldn’t. His body refused to shove Mono off. His panicking mind tumbled over itself and failed to do anything useful at all. 

Mono’s tongue slipped inside, while fingers crept across RK’s thigh. 

Gross gross gross. As many times as Mono had done this, RK never got used to it. He didn’t believe Six and Mono’s allegations that he liked it because his body responded. He wouldn’t succumb to Mono’s same delusions (even if sometimes he wasn’t sure). Just push Mono off. Tell him no. Consent. He needed to learn that. 

“Six,” Mono moaned. 

Okay. Okay. That little name flip was an old habit of Mono’s, one that hadn’t shown up in weeks now. RK hadn’t missed it. It was more uncomfortable even, now that Six was -

For a second, he’d forgotten Six was dead. Too distracted, assumed she was out wandering and hunting but no. Any relief at her death was thin right now. 

Mono was pawing all over his body, while he pulled himself free from his trousers. RK bit back the impulse to puke. Do something, _do something,_ he screamed at himself. _Yeah, do something against the guy that can kill people just by thinking about it_. But if he didn’t set boundaries now, then -

“Six, Six,” Mono breathed, hot air puffing over RK’s neck. “I missed you so much.” The sound of skin slapping. “I missed you, I missed you, I need you-“ His words fell apart in a rambling mess of worshipful litanies. He humped loosely against RK, stroking his hair. RK sat very, very still, until thick white liquid splattered over his stomach, and he flinched. 

That had gotten… um. More vivid than it had in the past. More targeted. 

Tears dripped onto RK’s shoulder, while Mono’s body quivered and shuddered.

Maybe Mono wasn’t salvageable. Maybe he was too far gone. The seconds ticked by. Their position had long since gotten uncomfortable, but RK was too freaked out to change it. Mono’s tears dwindled, and his breath steadied. 

“Thanks, Six,” Mono sighed into RK’s ear. It was the first time Mono had ever called RK by that name outside of the imminency of sex, and it sent chills down his spine. 

_RK_ , he wanted to correct. Or nothing at all. Just not Six. 

Mono petted his hair. He continued quietly, the sheer calmness in his voice all wrong, "you’ve always been such a good friend to me..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I summoned sp00py to write most of this chapter sklfjks. We'll be collabing for the remaining chapters because of course we couldn't finish the story in two chapters.

Exhaustion soon took Mono, leaving RK to sit there and shiver. Mono’s hand had slipped from his hair to around his back, and the other boy was pressed hard against RK’s side. No chance of escape like this. His cum dried slowly on RK’s stomach, and Six’s blood dried on her coat.

RK stared down at his hands underneath one of her draped sleeves. Six fingers. He curled his fists (well, one fist. The other… he just tucked his thumb under his palm).

Six was dead. Okay. Good. That was good. Just keep reminding yourself of that. Dead, dead, dead.

Mono was having a psychotic break. That was less good. RK was terrified to think of what he might be able to do -- not just to the world, but to him, if he wanted. He’d never seen Mono’s abilities, not to this level, and the way his heart had slowed, the way the world had warped… He’d felt Mono’s power all the way to his bones. Even now, his heart seemed to pound a little off in his chest, out of sync with the world.

He wanted to crawl away while Mono was sleeping, leave him to his delusions, but… Mono was crying again, curling even tighter around him. RK shouldn’t feel bad; Mono did terrible things. Mono _hurt_ him. But Six had done that to him. He was a victim. RK could help him. For himself, and for other kids. Without Six, Mono could do so much good. He just needed help, like anyone else. Especially after _Six._

RK reminded himself of this as Mono shifted, tightening his grip around his waist, as though it would banish the trepidation bubbling up, replacing the usual terror that had defined his life around Six. Even if he was able to leave, RK dreaded if Mono found him. If he’d decide RK wasn’t allowed to be himself, under the illusion of Six’s name and coat. RK didn’t want to find out just how much Mono could mold him. He uncurled his fingers. Still six.

Mono slept (and cried -- he really did cry _a lot_ ), and RK fought with himself. Mono was too far gone -- Mono was hurt, and vulnerable, and he could _help_ \-- Mono hurt him and hurt him and hurt him -- Mono learned all that from Six, and Six was dead --

RK jolted awake from a fitful half-sleep full of strangling yellow raincoats and the world ripped apart. Mono was moving more, waking up.

He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, then stretched with a yawn, like everything was normal. RK held his breath, waiting for Mono to realize. To remember what happened.

He hugged RK, the dried blood on Six’s coat cracking. “Mornin’, Six.”

Not Six. Not -- Mono was _looking_ at him, but was seeing someone completely different. Unless.. No. RK didn’t look _that_ similar to Six. “I’m not,” RK whispered, only for Mono to start adjusting the coat, and his protest died.

“You should put your coat on right. You’ll get cold.”

“I don’t want it.”

Mono’s hands froze. “What?” he asked, confusion knitting his brows.

Establish boundaries. Six wasn’t here to tear them right back down. “I… I don’t want the coat. I want _my_ clothes, Mono. They’re over there.” RK pointed at the wrinkly pile of hopefully dry clothes.

“This is yours, Six,” he said patiently, as though Six said multiple, full sentences all the time.

He knew. He absolutely had to know RK wasn’t Six. He was just… not coping well. This was his way of dealing with it. RK took a steadying breath. All right. This wasn’t a healthy way, and he could be shown that. It could be corrected, like everything else wrong with Mono. 

RK breathed very conscientiously a few more times, readying himself. This was Mono. Without Six. Because she was dead, and never coming back. He could do this. “I’m not Six, Mono. I’m RK.”

“Put on your coat, Six,” Mono said flatly. He would never order Six around. Obviously he knew RK wasn’t her, if he was giving orders. What was this weird game?

“I’m. Not. Six,” RK repeated. If he said it enough, it’d stick. He shoved the coat off and crawled over to his clothes. It was strange, to think he’d not have to worry about being denied clothes any more. Six liked to do that, destroy his clothes and leave him exposed and shaking, but once they left the Maw, Mono had made the case that RK needed his own clothes to wear. It hadn’t stopped Six doing it again (and again…), but they’d been swiftly replaced.

Mono grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back. RK toppled onto his butt with a startled yelp, and his arms were suddenly full of rusty browns and bright, vile yellow.

“Put. It. On,” Mono said, exactly like RK had spoken. “ _Six.”_

RK flung the stupid coat away. Six’s blood had flaked off onto his skin, like bits of dirt. He wiped futilely at the spots as he climbed to his feet. “I’m not Six! I don’t want to play this stupid ga--”

Mono punched him. Hard. RK fell back again, arms scraping on the rough ground as he barely caught himself. His face throbbed where Mono had hit, and he tasted blood.

“Wha…” RK trailed off, the confused question dying before it was ever really born. Mono hit him. Mono _hit_ him. He’d hurt him before, yes. The pipe. The amputation. The kissing and the rape. He’d hurt RK a lot, but he’d never _hit_ him, without a reason, however stupid.

And Mono provided no reason, eyes staticky and deranged, chest heaving. The coat on the ground between them was loud enough.

Quietly, RK picked up the coat and pulled it on, cringing at the cold material on his bare skin. Mono’s stance instantly relaxed, and although RK wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore, he did catch the shocked stutter in Mono’s breath. Mono had become unpredictable in a way neither of them knew how to handle. This wasn’t an equal situation, though. 

Mono raised one hand out, and then let it fall. “I - I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t mean-“

RK didn’t speak. One small argument over his choice of clothing, and Mono had been on the verge of using his powers. 

“RK,” Mono urged, stepping closer. 

RK instinctually stepped back, until his brain loaded which name had been used. He dared to meet Mono’s eyes. Red-rimmed from earlier. Brown pupils, the way they should be. And his expression was tortured. “I didn’t mean-,” he tried again, “I’m not like that. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” 

Mono’s shoulders slunched and he tugged at his sleeve. 

RK didn’t dare ask whether he could take off the coat or not. “It’s okay,” he said hollowly. 

“It’s not,” Mono muttered miserably, which demonstrated a welcome awareness of reality. 

“Yeah.” The two stood there awkwardly, long enough for RK to better appreciate Mono’s return to something close to sanity. That was… good, right? He was bound to behave oddly on the heels of Six’s death, but over time the extremes would smooth out, right? RK swallowed down the thought that most grieving people didn’t instantly launch into hitting or forcing others to be someone they’re not. 

“We should move on,” Mono said. That answered the question about whether RK could change clothes or not. 

RK stood up, pulling the hem of the raincoat down as far as it could go. Almost to his knees. It wasn’t nearly far enough.

He meekly followed Mono out of their shelter, a hand to his cheek. It fell away as RK got a good look around. The rain had faded to a weak, foggy drizzle. The destruction disappeared into the fog, with a blatant epicenter so close to a mound just the size of a child. Six, RK reminded himself at the first twinge of sadness. That was _Six_. She didn’t deserve his sympathy.

Mono, who moments ago had expressed interest in leaving, had frozen in place at the sight. 

“C’mon,” RK barely whispered, afraid to rush Mono. Mono’s shoulders had gone rigid. He wouldn't stop staring. Their positions unnerved RK - Six’s grave, Mono, and then RK staring at Mono’s back. It was too reminiscent of last night; too alike to the moment Mono had slaughtered the Gardener. “Mono,” RK said louder. 

No answer. 

RK shifted foot to foot, anxiety ratcheting up. Speak again? Tug on his clothes? Leave? Yeah, not that one. Mono would notice sooner or later. “Mono?” RK dared pull on Mono’s coat. 

Mono spun around, and started at RK like he’d never seen him before. RK tensed. 

“Sorry,” Mono uttered swiftly. 

“It’s - it’s okay…”

“Just spaced out, I guess,” Mono’s lopsided grin didn’t look quite right in a face taut with stress. Then he ruffled RK’s hair like he’d never done with him before. Only Six got that, when they were whispering to each other, or playing games that RK wasn’t invited to play (they all seemed to require more fingers than he had). “Let’s get out of here, all right?” Yeah, there was something wrong in that tone, too. Falsely cheery. 

As they walked across broken glass, twisted metal, crumbled walls, the sheer scope of Mono’s powers became apparent. A lamp post was somehow… part of a wall, spiraling like a paper curl and sputtering little flickers of light. More and more, RK realized things weren’t just leveled, they were disassembled and reassembled all wrong. Doors melting, windows opening into a darkness below, TVs all flickering and alive with a dozen eyes, spewing out weird, lumpy masses.

The silence between them dragged on long and loud. RK was terrified to speak, to find out if he was Six again, or if Mono would let him just be himself. His legs were cold, fog beading across his skin, making him as miserable as everything else going on. At least the brand new nightmare of the world around him offered some distraction from the discomfort and fear.

It took him a second to spot the first child -- or at least the first he’d noticed. She was laced through with wires and glass, blond pigtails tangled up with blues, reds, yellows like ribbons, an eye gouged out with a shard of glass that must have gone horrifically deep into her head. Worse, RK could trace the trail she’d dragged herself along. Going nowhere, but desperate to move. She’d been alive with all that woven under her skin and spilling out of her mouth.

Then, he kept seeing them. Children and adults alike phased through windows, splashed across walls, embedded in the ground, not necessarily all in one piece.

RK was suddenly very, very glad that Mono hadn’t hurt him like this. Death was one thing, and something he faced every day, but what Mono had done to these kids…. It was horrifying beyond description. Just the thought of how they’d suffered made RK nauseous and his eyes sting. But at least they were dead, now. They were safe.

“Help,” a weak voice called.

Oh no, if Six -- Wait. Six wasn’t alive. RK perked up. They could actually help a child, without Six murdering them. One child would lead to another, would lead to even more. RK could show Mono how to _actually_ help.

“Did you hear that?” he asked Mono, who was intently picking his way through a field of metal that had decided every piece needed to point unerringly upward, no matter what gravity said.

“Hear what?”

“Help me!”

“C’mon,” RK said, letting hope color his words as he dodged the freaky bits of metal. With no fear of adults, because, well, just look around them, he called, “We’re coming!”

A few more rounds of calling like a game of marco polo, and RK found a girl trapped underneath (not in, not through, not choking on asphalt and cement) a section of wall. She had a wild mass of red hair and broken glasses that dangled from her nose. Her arms had injuries all up and down. But she was alive, for all the bruising.

“Hey,” RK said, creeping closer. A door was flat on the ground beneath her, and he was afraid to find out if it was sitting on the ground, or opened into some nightmarish void. Mono trailed behind, taking in the scene.

“Are you going to…” Mono trailed off, and RK glanced back, a little bit of his relief fading. “Y’know?”

RK suspected he did know what Mono meant. “She’s _hurt_. We need to get her out,” he said as pointedly as he could. Like a knife.

“You haven’t eaten in a while.” 

RK said nothing, lips pressed so tightly on all the things he wanted to say, wanted to _scream_ , that they were just a thin, white line. He turned instead to the girl, forcing his expression to be calm.

“I’ll get you out,” he promised her. If Mono was going to be useless, RK would save this girl himself. He contemplated her predicament. Something to leverage up the wall, then. A bit of rebar or wood.

“Do you want to hunt…?” Mono asked tentatively.

“What?” the girl said, eyes growing wide.

“No, no!” RK waved his hands frantically. 

As though he’d said nothing at all, though, Mono stepped forward and with a staticky sort of noise that came from nowhere and everywhere, flicked his hand up. The wall went up. The girl was free. Her eyes were wide, locked onto Mono. So was RK’s.

This was good? Sure, Mono thought RK wanted to -- to -- he was helping, and that was what mattered. She was free, easier than RK could have managed.

He stepped forward, into the shadow of the wall. Its presence was heavy above them, all that weight, held up by nothing. Mono wasn’t even exerting himself; he was barely trying. It made RK’s skin crawl. But he’d seen weirder. Maybe.

He held out his hand to the girl, but she hesitated. 

“I don’t-” RK said quickly. “I’m not like-” 

She seemed to understand, and took his hand. He pulled her from the looming wall; her fingers were like a vice around his, using him as a crutch as she avoided putting weight on her mangled left leg. The wall thudded down, shaking the earth and splitting in two upon impact.

They stared at it, RK and the girl, trying to process how easily that could have killed her. Mono was looking at them, confusion on his face, like he’d not just saved a life.

RK refused to acknowledge him, but the girl -- she didn’t know any better.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Mono said nothing, and RK risked a glance. He could practically feel Mono urging him to eat her -- wait, _was_ he urging RK to eat her? As easily as he had twisted and distorted these buildings, could he twist something in RK, give him that same curse Six had? No, RK didn’t feel hungry, but… He shook his head. Ignore Mono.

“Let me look at your leg,” he mumbled, helping the girl to hobble over to a different bit of destroyed building.

“I’m glad you came,” the girl said, her voice slightly raspy. “I was stuck there all night… I don’t know what happened, I was afraid nobody would come, and…” She compliantly stuck out her leg, though the green eyes behind her broken glasses were far away.

RK bit into his lip. Her leg wasn’t just mangled from a building falling on her. There were things underneath the skin. Nails facing the wrong way, like they’d blossomed like thorns. A strip of skin that should be flesh but looked like cement.

The girl was rambling on, but RK barely processed the words. This wasn’t damage he could fix. This was… 

Mono grabbed RK’s arm, dragging him a few feet away. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice low to keep the girl from hearing.

“Helping her-” RK snarled back, too aggravated to keep his tone pleasant. Mono had done this to her. It was his fault. And he should be the one fixing it, but he was too caught up in his delusions. 

“You need to eat,” Mono iterated, grip tightening painfully on RK’s arm. “You haven’t for days --”

“I already ate!” RK blurted. Fine. If Mono was going to believe he was Six, then RK would play along - just this once - if it meant he’d save this girl’s life. 

Mono stared at him blankly. 

“I already ate,” RK repeated, as if saying it again would make it true. “When - uh, when we passed the other kids…” It was the stupidest argument, but Mono wasn’t exactly making rational choices. 

“Six,” Mono uttered, soft, loving, quiet. He stroked RK’s hair; RK stilled, breath catching in his lungs. Not good. Not good. Whatever dumb idea he’d gotten in his thick skull, it was bad, and RK knew rightaway. He didn’t want to hear Mono speak another word, but the boy continued, “It’s okay. I-” he huffed a small laugh, affection gleaming in his eyes. “I’m not how I used to be, you know? I’m not gonna go curl up and cry just because you had to eat one person. I know you need it, Six.”

“N-no,” RK started. 

“Sorry if you didn’t want me to free her,” Mono said apologetically. “I just assumed - but you know best, if you’re up for a hunt or not. I can-” He raised his hand, black bits of void eating away at the world, like it wasn’t even real.

“NO!”

The darkness faded. The static went quiet. “Six?”

“I’m not eating her!” RK wasn’t whispering anymore. The poor girl could probably hear every word. “I’m not -- I -- just fix her, _please_ , Mono.”

Mono was silent. RK knew that was bad. He didn’t know how, but he just knew. Mono was connecting all the wrong dots. RK struggled to get his breathing under control.

“Okay,” Mono said quietly. “Okay, Six.”

“Thank you.”

Mono retreated to the girl. RK should join him. He should support the girl, who was clearly in shock and entirely unaware of what had been done to her. He sank to his knees, arms wrapped around himself, fingers (six, only six) digging into his sides through the thick rubbery material of Six’s raincoat.

Breathe in. Out. In. Out. He needed to remind Mono he wasn’t Six, not play into his delusions. It would only get harder, the longer this game went on.

The girl screamed. RK shot to his feet and whirled around. Blood -- Mono, holding her down. He wasn’t helping her. What -- what _was_ he doing?

RK ran over, clawing at Mono’s arm to get him off of her. He was wrenching at her, those little blobs of icy nothingness floating around. Things were cracking, blood was spewing, and she just kept screaming.

“Mono! Mono, stop!” RK screamed as he realized he could see into her chest, ribs cracked open like the fragile shell of an egg, exposing glistening innards in horrible, lurid colors. Everything was quivering and pulsating as she spasmed beneath him.

RK stumbled away, only to find himself pitched forward by lurching, watery ground. His knees banged against the low wall, and Mono caught him by the shoulder before he could hit his face on it, next. Something warm and wet pressed to his mouth. Mono’s staticky gaze was all RK could see, like TV screens with nothing behind them. Nothing human, at least.

“You need to eat,” Mono said quietly, sweetly, grip moving from his shoulder to cradle his head. The girl’s cries sighed away into nothing. RK hoped she had died. She hadn’t deserved this suffering. He sobbed behind his tightly closed lips. “Please, Six. I don’t know what’s wrong, but please eat.”

RK shook his head, smearing blood all across his cheeks. Mono’s fingers tightened in his hair. “Six,” he said warningly. It was so warm, so recently alive. RK didn’t want to die like her. A thought he’d had so regularly with Six, that he hoped he’d be free from when he managed to outlive her. Just like with Six, he hatefully found himself complying to any demand, if it meant he might live.

He opened his mouth and fought to not immediately vomit. Mono pressed the meaty organ to his teeth. RK tried to pull away, but Mono’s hand in his hair held firm. He bit down. The flavor exploded across his tongue, blood and bile, sour and sharp.

“Good, good,” Mono cooed, kissing RK’s forehead as he chewed -- ugh, god, it was _chewy_ \-- and swallowed. Another bite. Please, could he stop now? Mono pressed it harder to his mouth. Another.

Several more bites of cooling flesh, with blood and fluids and tears running down his chin, and Mono pulled the meat away. RK slumped over the wall, stomach and brain in an upheaval.

It was over, at least. RK had survived (the girl hadn’t). A cold sheen of sweat clung to his forehead. His lips and fingers tingled. Breathe. Breathe.

Mono crowded in close, and fingers caressed RK’s thighs under the coat. RK flinched back hard, mind reeling. He needed _space_. What was Mono even doing? He’d just -- a girl was dead, RK had just eaten her flesh for fuck’s sake, and Mono was groping up underneath his coat like that was in any way the appropriate response to -- to anything.

RK gargled some vague question, and Mono blushed, like he was far more innocent than he was in reality. “You always want to make love after eating,” he explained.

Make. Make love. That’s - that’s what he was thinking about. Sex. He wanted to fuck. 

RK squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of fresh nausea. His momentary hesitation was enough for Mono to grab at his thighs again. 

“Stop-” RK choked out. What good did saying it do?

Nothing, since Mono just tutted and kissed him, like his mouth wasn’t covered in disgusting smears of another child. Mono was probably used to it, RK thought, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. He jerked and twisted away, but Mono gripped his face and coat. 

“Six,” Mono murmured against his mouth. RK hated that name so much. Even dead, she tormented him.

Fingers reached into his coat, found the waistband of his boxers. RK squeaked and jumped. His protest got swallowed up by Mono’s mouth. 

Okay. This was happening. This had happened before. Mono would rut up against him while RK pretended he was literally anywhere else. Then… then…. RK didn’t know. He continued being Six? Eating children -- how could he have done that, already? Was Mono in his head, pulling at strings, making him into the monster he wanted RK to be?

Mono pushed him back, and he felt the cold drizzle of rain up his raincoat. Don’t think about it. Just let him use you. Then reorganize. Don’t think about what he’d eaten, either, or the dead girl, or -

Mono’s fingers shoved impatiently between his legs; RK yipped and squirmed. “ _What_?-” he yelped. Somehow the pieces connected in his scrambled brain, before Mono had to say anything. Mono and Six always fucked after she ate. That’s what Mono said, and that’s what RK knew, after living with them so long. But Six had different parts than RK. Mono was trying to make do. 

“Mono!” RK squeaked as his fingers groped even more roughly, figuring out the problem. Maybe he'd stop once he realized? “You’re not -- "

Then Mono shoved in, and RK wished he’d never been born. All of it, this entire hellish experience, from when he’d first met Six on the Maw, to now, all of it could go and he wouldn't care. Any attempt he made to produce some net good in this world was thwarted again and again by monsters with more power than he’d ever be allowed.

Mono slid in and out. It burned all the way up RK’s spine, and sent his already precarious stomach churning. RK writhed pointlessly, biting back the rising need to vomit. Mono whispered saccharine words into RK’s ears. Picked up his pace, jostling RK’s insides. He wasn’t going to throw up. He couldn’t stop it. RK banged his fists weakly against Mono’s shoulders. Predictably, it did nothing to stop him. RK heaved and choked it down, lips squeezed shut, but he could only last so long. The next heave rocked through him and then puke was spurting down his front. Gagging, RK twisted his head to the side and spat out whatever tried to go back down his throat. Red chunky liquid was all over his chest and the ground, and reeked. 

Mono let out a cry and was scrambling off. Distantly, RK realized there was nothing in him anymore, nothing but the fiery ache Mono had left in his wake. None of his senses seemed to be working exactly right, and it had nothing to do with Mono’s power this time. His ringing ears warbled sound in and out, though he caught enough to hear Mono vomiting beside him. His vision swam. Even the sense of touch was strange, as sometimes he felt numb and fuzzy, other times he picked up sensations so vividly that he wanted to die again: the weight of meat and liquid on his chest, the goo smeared across his face, the searing burn of his insides. 

RK let out a soft, faint sob. He wanted to lie here and never move again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Mono wouldn’t let him wallow. RK had been staring up at the sky, contemplating the whorls of clouds, the shadows and light, thinking about nothing while everything inside of him screamed. Death wouldn’t be so bad, would it? RK liked to think it was quiet and still. And solitary. He’d like solitary right about now.

Mono’s face broke his line of sight to the sky, red and blotchy, eyes and mouth irritated. RK hated his stupid face. He hated everything about Mono, right now.

“RK?” he asked tentatively, wincing away as RK shifted, as though expecting a blow.

Don’t feel bad for him. He did this to himself.

RK sat up. The world was worse, but he was sure this time the upheaval was in his head, not actually happening. Maybe. He splayed his hands on the ground, staring at the mud and the gunk between his fingers. It still threw him, sometimes, to see the difference between his hands. With time, though, he knew the missing fingers would become as much a part of him as the scars littering his arms.

Mono helped him to his feet. RK wanted to shove him away, but he needed the physical support right now. Every movement hurt all the way up his spine, and his head spun. He had nothing left to throw up, or else he’d be doing that. Mono looked as bad as RK felt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, so quietly RK almost couldn’t hear it. Of course he was. He was always sorry. Ever since RK first met him, he apologized for everything. RK was sure he really was sorry, but the words meant nothing when he  _ kept hurting him _ .

RK was tired. He wanted to sleep, to pretend his life wasn’t a nightmare. He was hungry (and how that terrified him, wondering if when next he saw a child, he’d want to eat them). He was somehow in new pain than any he'd felt before. He was scared. When he didn’t respond to Mono’s apology, Mono said, “That’s okay. I understand. I’ll… let me help you get cleaned up, then you can leave, okay?”

RK was sure he misheard, but Mono repeated it when he looked up in blank surprise. He could… leave? Just endure one more thing with Mono, then never see him again? Words choked, hope strangled in his throat, and all he could do was nod. Mono took his mangled hand in his own.

The distortions trickled away into the usual, almost comforting ruin of the city, as Mono pulled RK numbly along. Through the wall of a building, into a bathroom flooded with water. The tub was overflowing. A Viewer sat inside, staring at the glow of a screen propped dangerously on the edge. The lower half of their body was bloated, pale, and had been eaten away by the constant submersion. Horribly, RK couldn’t tell if they were alive or not.

“I’ll… I can go use the kitchen sink,” Mono mumbled. RK’s heart clenched at the word kitchen, but… Mono could clearly handle himself. And if he couldn’t, that wasn’t RK’s problem. Mono helped him up into the sink, then disappeared through the door.

He was left alone. Like some sort of test. Okay. He could just leave, right out the way he came. Then… Then Mono comes back, finds him gone, and hunts him down? Or simply drags the world toward him, until RK is back where he wants him. He wished he knew what Mono could actually do, and what he  _ couldn’t _ . What RK could use to escape. He didn't dare let himself believe Mono's earlier words.

He turned on the water, and it sputtered, the pipes rattling, until it stabilized into an icy stream. Next to him, the tub’s flow weakened, and RK glanced over, afraid that the Viewer would get up and attack. It didn’t even move. All that mattered was its TV. He wished Mono had pulled the curtain closed before shoving RK up onto the sink.

Awkwardly aware of another presence so close, he peeled off Six’s coat. That was all he was wearing, now. Mono had taken off his boxers, and RK hadn’t been in any state to hunt for them after. Clean the coat. It was all he had, and even wearing Six’s coat was better than being naked around Mono.

Next he went under the faucet, ruffling his hair, scrubbing and scratching at his body like that could undo anything that had been done to him. It never worked before, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He gargled and drank the water, drowning out the hunger gnawing at his stomach. Not hunger -- not like  _ Six’s _ . Just… he hadn’t eaten in a while. RK reminded himself of that. There wasn’t the urge to hunt. (Or was that the urge there, sidling in under an unassuming thought? No. RK couldn’t think like that, or everything would become suspect.) The water helped, so that meant it had to be regular hunger, because he was still himself. His body and thoughts were his own, not warped by Mono. Not Six.

Eventually, his manacle grew so cold that his ankle began to ache, and RK had to retreat from the water. He perched on the edge of the sink, hesitant to put the raincoat back on. Hesitant to go back to Mono.

“Are you done?” Mono asked, and RK fell off the sink.

He cringed, waiting for the sharp pain of his head hitting tile, only for everything to slow. The water dripping from his hair drifted up, making goosebumps rise from the sheer wrongness. Mono caught him before he could touch the floor. That feel of static along his skin faded. RK curled his hands tight to his chest, eyes wide, mouth pressed tightly on any words -- let me go, stop, don’t  _ touch _ me -- that wanted to slip free.

Mono’s brows furrowed as he held RK, dark eyes returning to that worried brown. Whatever he was thinking passed, and he set RK on his feet, then jumped up to catch the dangling sleeve of the raincoat. RK’s hands were knotted up together nervously, and Mono had to gently untangle the one missing most of the fingers.

“You know…. It’s silly I keep calling you Six,” Mono said, tone light, like he was reaching for some sort of normalcy that had never existed between them. He held RK’s hand in between his own, feeling out the scars where fingers should be, if not for him. His eyes skimmed over RK, as though committing every little difference to memory. RK wished he’d give him the coat. “You’re obviously not her.”

“I’m not,” RK agreed. Six was dead. Not that he was going to say that.

Mono held out the raincoat. Somehow, this felt like the exact opposite of what Mono said, but RK bit his tongue on that, too. Mono helped him buckle it closed, then pulled the hood up, over RK’s wet hair, every gesture careful and considerate. When Mono pressed a kiss to his forehead, RK fought the urge to shove him back and run.

He tugged RK along, into the living room, where a TV set shushed with static, Viewer caught in its glow. “Six is…” Mono began, then choked. “She… I  _ know _ she’s… I just…Sorry...” He was crying, now.

RK didn’t understand how he could cry so much and be so sad and so  _ sorry _ and still have energy to do… well, all the terrible things he did. But he did seem to be (maybe) closing in on the ground truth that Six wasn’t coming back, and more importantly, that  _ RK wasn’t Six _ . He pat Mono awkwardly on the shoulder.

Mono took it too far like he always did, and flung his arms around RK, nevermind how tense he was or that he made no effort to reciprocate the touch. He cried into RK’s shoulder, great heaving sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he whispered, over and over, like when he and Six had sex. RK clenched his teeth and his fists, fighting every urge to shove Mono off.

“I just… I hate this. Everything here... I just wanna go home.”

“What.” It slipped out before RK thought about it. Mono had a home? Mono had somewhere he  _ wanted _ to go?

Mono pulled back, rubbing at his eyes. “I wanna go home?” he said, like he was asking RK for permission. At RK’s confusion, he pointed out the window. Framed perfectly, like a picture, was the signal tower, its pale light a beacon. That explained nothing, but gave RK something new to dread.

Wait. He didn’t have to go there. Mono said he could leave. Mono would go home, and RK would go… literally anywhere else. Was he being stupid, to trust him? Absolutely, but what else did RK have?

“Okay,” RK said. Mono smiled hopefully. “I mean… Yeah, you should go home.”

There was that confusion, again. RK began to back away. Don’t run. This wasn’t Six, but RK had the same exact feeling of being trapped in a predator’s gaze.

“I should? What about you?”

“You said I could leave,” RK said weakly, putting more steps between him and Mono.

Mono shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t fathom why he’d say something like that. “But… then I’d be alone again…”

No. Mono couldn’t do this. He’d promised - 

RK would never escape again, if he didn’t now. He’d not be given the chance. “You… you  _ said--” _

Mono lifted his hand. Instinct screamed. RK ran.

Right through a door, then suddenly there wasn’t anything underneath him, and he fell two feet to the floor. RK coughed, the wind knocked out of him. Heaving for breath, he jerked his head up. There was Mono, standing beside him. And across the room, the Viewer still transfixed by the TV.  _ No. _

This time, RK shot towards the window he'd just fallen through, scrambling up a pile of junk beneath it and throwing himself out into the street… only to thud to the floor again. 

His breath rattled in his ears. He stared at the grains in the hardwood floor. Every exit was rigged, looping into this tiny little hell. Trapped. Mono  _ lied _ .

“I don’t want to be alone,” Mono said. Coming from anyone else, that tone would have been reminiscent of a scared, lost little kid. Coming from Mono, and given what had just happened, it had dread percolating in RK’s blood. He stood much more slowly, and wrapped his arms around himself. 

His eyes stayed locked on the ground as Mono approached. As Mono touched him, gently on the arm. As he reeled RK into a hug.

RK shuddered, and Mono just held him tighter. Every breath felt like sucking through a straw.

They said nothing for a long time. RK had nothing he could say, and all Mono would do was lie. RK couldn't save him. It had been idiotic to ever think otherwise.

Mono stepped back, fingers trailing down to clasp RK’s left hand. The one that wasn’t mangled. That he could pretend was Six’s.

Just as tenderly, Mono pulled RK to the TV. The Viewer turned to them, that horrible transmission sound pitching up in intensity, then crumpled like old paper. Mono hadn’t even acknowledged her.

RK knew this part. The first time, when he’d been kidnapped from the Maw, it had scared him. To suddenly be one place, then another, a new world drastically different from the familiar materializing around him. That seemed so far away, now. When the nightmare that was Six was still new. He’d realized then, that he could never be free. It had been naïve to think that would change when Six died.

The static hummed, electricity charging the air and raising the hairs on his arms. The world lurched (it felt kind of like falling through the wrong part of the room, RK realized now -- was anything a portal, if Mono wanted it to be?). They disappeared into a shrieking, humming darkness.

Instead of falling out of a TV somewhere else, RK found himself stumbling over eyes -- no, o n a purple-saturated floor. The eyes were just whorls in the wood. His stomach and heart and head couldn’t seem to agree what direction was up, and he clung to Mono instinctively.

This wasn’t how it normally went. Nothing was normal, anymore. RK sank to the ground, and Mono kept him from simply collapsing like that Viewer.

This was where Mono called home. RK had only seen a hall, but he already knew it was  _ wrong _ . And Mono was tugging him along, not giving him time to reorient and adjust. His brain felt all liquidy, sloshing, swirling, ready to pour out of his ears so Mono could fill him up with Six instead. RK grit his teeth at the thought, clinging to everything that felt like him, every spark of anger, of sadness and agony and stupid, bleeding-heart sympathy that Six would never have.

It got worse when they stepped out of the hall into a room tall as the tower (or bigger?). It plunged down, down, and rose up, up into a purple haze. The air vibrated, beating against RK’s eardrums. Mono still held his hand. That was the only thing that felt solid anymore. The hand of the boy who kidnapped him, raped him, and forced him to eat children. _That_ was all he had now. RK squeezed tighter, afraid to be left alone in this… whatever this was. Even if his only company was Mono.


End file.
